


The lies you tell yourself

by Fatale (femme)



Category: White Collar
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Noir, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 22:54:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13258317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/femme/pseuds/Fatale
Summary: He sees her sitting at the bar, a red-haired beauty with a predatory smile.





	The lies you tell yourself

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sapphire2309](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphire2309/gifts).



> Sapphire2309 convinced me to write wc noir Rebecca (Rachel)/Neal. Because I'm easily manipulated and kind of love Rachel's brand of crazy, here it is.

He sees her sitting at the bar, a red-haired beauty with a predatory smile.

“Rebecca Lowe?” Neal asks, slotting in next to her. 

“That’s one of my names.”

“Nick Halden,” he introduces himself, using an old well-trodden alias that almost fits better than his own name these days. 

He gestures at the bartender for another Old Fashioned for the lady and the same for himself. He likes this place, a little shabby and soft with age but left-over elegance from a bygone era. It’s dim and smoky and all the patrons know to carefully not see who comes and goes. It’s the perfect place for a little sin.

Rebecca hands him a business card and he flips it in-between his fingers, walking it back and forward. His partner and handler, Peter, says it’s one of his tells, but damn if Neal can stop it. The secret to hiding tells is making it about something else. He leans close to Rebecca, knows she can see his pupils dilate. His heartbeat speeds up.

“I guess this means we’re in business, then?”

Two drinks are set in front of them and Neal licks his lips, takes a sip of his drink. The corner of Rebecca's mouth curls as her bright blue eyes track the path his tongue takes. 

"I must confess, Mr. Halden, I mostly just wanted to meet you for myself. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“I hope I don’t disappoint?”

“Not at all. I think I can take care of that problem you’ve been having.”

She’s too careful; he needs a confession. Her fingers trace the patterns of condensation on the bar, lips pursed. Beautiful, she’s beautiful. He’s still going to turn her in, but he’s going feel really bad doing it. 

Time to bring it home. “I think maybe we should take this somewhere more private. You can tell me all about your exploits.”

She smiles regretfully at him, traces moisture-slick fingers down his chest, stops mid-way, right over the coil of wires under his shirt. “Maybe another time,” she says, tapping twice hard enough that Peter’s going to bitch about the feedback later. 

Neal slides his hand over hers, where it’s resting on his chest, against the small buzz and crackle he always thinks he hears, an imaginary cage. “This won’t be forever,” he says, wondering if he’s lying to himself.

“I’ll find you then,” she says, sliding off her barstool. “See you around, Neal,” she tosses over her shoulder, one last devastating parting shot. The door swings shut behind her.

Neal turns back to the bar, eye catching on the plain white card there. He picks it up and flips it over. 

It’s blank.


End file.
